


Forget Me, Forget-me-not

by miikasaa



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Birthday Presents, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-11
Updated: 2015-02-11
Packaged: 2018-03-11 14:52:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,713
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3330122
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/miikasaa/pseuds/miikasaa
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jean searches for the perfect gift for Mikasa's birthday; her favorite flowers.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Forget Me, Forget-me-not

**Author's Note:**

> I think I read somewhere that Mikasa's favorite flowers were Forget-me-nots, but even if I'm wrong she deserves all the love and flowers in the world.
> 
> Happy birthday, Mikasa!
> 
> Takes place about one year or so after the Uprising Arc.

If asked, Jean would choose winter patrol as the worst part of being a soldier. That would change, of course, the moment the gates opened and he left the walls, his answer would change to missions. But as of now, with snow still clinging desperately to his hair and the tips of his ears, Jean hated winter patrol.

He ducks into the kitchen, shaking the ice flecks out of his hair before biting eagerly into an apple and watches as Sasha assumes the post he recently left, the hood of her cloak pulled high. She hooks her bow over her back and crosses her arms against the chill.

Once he feels sufficiently defrosted, Jean takes another apple, tossing and catching it with ease as he heads to the dorms. On his way, he passes Connie, slumped against one of the tables in the mess hall. He’s mumbling something, muffling it into the old oak of the table, but Jean leaves him, pats his head and quickly leaves the room. There’s a meeting in the morning, anyway. Maybe now Connie will be on time.

Jean reaches the second floor, about to bite into his second apple, his feet dragging as his shoulders finally begin to feel the weight of the day, when he hears a familiar laugh. It’s one he’s been hearing more often, a loud, boisterous laugh that somehow managed to stay over the years, even through the bleakest situations. Accompanying it is two other, small and quiet chuckles that Jean recognizes immediately.

Still, he glances around the corner, and he sees Eren, Mikasa, and Armin sitting together in the hallway, leaning against the walls, face-to-face with their legs intertwined. Armin is telling a story, his hands moving swiftly through the air while Eren clutches his stomach, and Mikasa watches them with a fond smile.

It’s intimate, personal, and Jean feels like he’s interrupting.

Jean slips into the nearest room with a sigh. His room is just down the hall, past where they’re sitting, but Jean doesn’t want to interrupt them. It isn’t often the trio gets a night off together, and with a mission coming up in a few weeks, Jean knows they’re looking to spend as much time together as possible.

So he leans against the wall, holding the apple to his chest as he futilely tries to ignore their conversation floating around him.

“Oh come on, Mika.” Eren whines, clapping his hands together. “You never let us do anything for your-”

“I’ve told you, Eren, Armin. Both of you with me is everything I need.” Jean hears shuffling and then two quick _thunks_ as boots fall to the ground. “You don’t need to do anything else.”

Armin sighs. Jean knows it’s him because no one else mangoes to sound both amused and disappointed in such a breath. “If you’re sure, Mikasa.”

“I am.” He can picture her smile, the tiny tilt of her lips and the way her hair brushes against her face. “I should get to my room. Levi will be doing rounds soon and I’m sure Sasha will want to share my blanket to warm up.”

Eren groans, and Jean hears them all stand. “Fine, but Mikasa?”

“Yes?”

“If you guys fall asleep in your bed again I think Connie’s going to combust.” Eren laughs again until there’s a _thunk_ and he yelps. Mikasa must have pushed him.

Mikasa and Armin pass the doorframe first, Armin’s arm thrown around her shoulders and Mikasa’s boots tucked under one arm as they ignore Eren’s grumbled curses. Jean panics, retreating further into the room. If they turned around for even a second they could see him there; he should have shut the door. But they pass quickly, and Jean breathes an audible sigh of relief when he hears them descend the stairs.

Eren passes a minute later, but Jean grasps his elbow, tugging Eren into the room with him. Unsurprisingly, Eren tries to yell, and Jean covers Eren’s mouth with his hand, grimacing against the wet strokes of Eren’s tongue on his palm.

When he’s sure Armin and Mikasa are gone, Jean releases Eren, stepping back and wiping his soaked hand on his trousers.

“Dude, what the hell?” Eren asks, cocking an eyebrow. “You know I don’t swing this way.”

“You don’t swing any way,” Jean says, glancing into the hallway nervously.

Eren snorts. “Which makes this,” he gestures wildly between them. “All the more confusing.”

“Fuck you.”

“No thanks.” Eren smirks, crossing his arms across his chest as he leans against the wall. He stares, waiting patiently for Jean to find his voice, to explain why he pulled Eren away, why he listened in on their conversation. “Hey, how much of that did you hear, anyway?”

Jean hesitates, looking anywhere but at Eren’s weirdly bright eyes. “Look,” Jean says after a minute, running a hand down the back of his neck. The room is dark, and Jean can barely make out Eren’s features in the slivers of moonlight bleeding into the room, the way Eren tilts his head slightly. Jean sighs, raking his hand through his hair. Eren knows exactly what he wants, and he’s going to make Jean say it. “I know… I know it’s not any of my business, but what was that about? About getting something for Mikasa?”

“Ah,” Eren nods, as if he was actually surprised by Jean’s question. He shrugs half-heartedly. “It’s Mikasa’s birthday, and she won’t let us do anything for her. I mean, she never does, so it isn’t surprising. Man, the year she moved in with me, she didn’t say her birthday. Armin finally got it out of her a few weeks before mine, and I convinced my parents to celebrate hers instead. She fucking cried, too. Thought I made her angry, but she was _happy_ -”

“Eren-”

“Won’t tell you what she wants, but if you give her anything she’ll take it and make it even better for both of you-”

“Dude, shut up.” Jean shoves Eren’s shoulder lightly, making him lose his balance. Eren scowls at him, spitting a few choice curses, but Jean doesn’t pay attention. His heart beats unsteadily in his chest, his head spinning. He’s known Mikasa for more than four years, and she never once mentioned her birthday. Not in the morning while they both waited for the rationed coffee, or in their slowly-building conversations while they shared a watch shift, or after the night, almost a year ago, when Jean found Mikasa huddled alone in the mess hall, tears soaking her cheeks, when he spoke of everything and nothing until she calmed down enough to allow him to wrap his arms tightly around her.

According to Eren, however, this was completely unsurprising, but Jean can’t help feeling upset. At himself, mostly. He wished he’d known, to at least get her _something_ each year.

“It’s Mikasa’s birthday?” Jean asks quietly.

Eren shakes his head, an annoying smirk tugging at his lips. “Nah, man, not today. A week from tomorrow. Armin and I always ask around this time if we can do anything, and she always says no.” He laughs, throwing Jean a wink. “Doesn’t stop us, though.”

Jean nods, distracted as he tries to think through all the time’s he’s spoken with Mikasa, of all the nights they gradually opened up to each other; she never hinted at anything she may want or need. “I want to get her something.” Jean says, curling his hands into fists at his sides.

“Shocking,” Eren laughs, not unkindly, before nodding slowly.

“What-?”

“Forget-me-nots.”

Jean blinks. “Pardon?”

“Forget-me-nots,” Eren repeats, as if saying it again will make Jean understand, but at Jean’s continued confusion, Eren rolls his eyes. “Damn. They’re Mikasa’s favorite flower. They grew in the fields in Shiganshina where we used to collect firewood. Mikasa always made sure to bring some back home.” Eren tilts his head, lost somewhere in the memories that Jean couldn’t see. “I don’t think she’s seen any since Wall Maria fell.”

“Do they even grow outside Shiganshina?”

Eren shakes his head, frowning slightly. “Dunno. I haven’t seen them, but maybe someone at the marketplace has them? They grow in early spring, so they might be there now.”

“Great,” Jean sighs, shakily running a hand through his hair. “That’s really helpful. I should get her a flower that may or may not be in bloom, and might not even be inside the Wall.”

“Hey, you asked for advice and I delivered.” Eren slaps his hand onto Jean’s shoulder, grinning wickedly. “Besides, get Mikasa anything fancier, and she’ll probably break my finger for telling you her birthday.”

“I’d pay to see that.” Eren knocks his knuckles against Jean’s jaw, smiling broader at Jean’s hiss. “Okay, fine. What does this flower even look like?”

Eren explains that the ones that grew by his house were a light, lighter than sky blue with a bright yellow center, and how sometimes they would see a pink or a white but Mikasa’s favorite had always been the blue. He tells Jean that most people know them by name, so they shouldn’t be too hard to at least find a lead on, and then, (much to Jean’s horror,) says that if Jean hurts or upsets Mikasa in any way, he’ll risk the punishment of turning into a Titan to squish Jean.

* * *

The only day Jean manages to leave the castle is the day of Mikasa’s birthday, when he’s assigned to the market with Sasha to retrieve some food. Sasha talks during the entire trip to the inner wall, her horse’s reins wrapped loosely around her hand as she gestures with the other, points to different leaves and flowers to tell Jean about their medical uses. He tries to pay attention to her, really he does, but the sun above them has barely warmed the day and Jean’s fingers are dangerously close to freezing where he holds them hidden under his cloak.

Sasha studies their list while Jean ties up the horses, his fingers drifting through the coarse, dark hair, petting through any knots he encounters. Sasha flicks the list, bobbing her head.

“Here,” she rips it slowly, dividing it in two. She hands him the bottom half before hooking her thumb behind her. “It’ll go faster if we split up. Meet back here once you have everything.”

Jean nods, taking his pack from his horse’s saddle as he scans the list. He’s got the fruits and vegetables; should be easy enough. It should also get him close to the flower vendors to ask if any of them have seen forget-me-nots.

He leaves the flowers for last, weaving his way through several stalls and vendors, ignoring those calling out to him with promises of good deals and top-quality merchandise. He doesn’t need the shiny jewelry or fancy clothing; Jean’s got his heart set on one thing. On one girl.

With the sun setting at his back and the temperature steadily dropping, numbing his toes stuffed deep in several extra pairs of socks, Jean comes across the last stall on the block, one of the biggest he’s encountered so far, the shelves and baskets filled to the brim with dozens of different flowers.

Jean lets out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding as he approaches the stall. When he can’t find the vendor, he glances carefully at all of the flowers, the tulips and violets and roses he recognizes from the books they’re allowed at the castle. There’s several reds, whites, yellows, and even dark purples, the colors bleeding together into a sweeping rainbow against the back of the cart, but Jean can’t see the one he came for.

“Can I help you, young man?” A young woman, whom Jean assumes to be the vendor, peeks over the top of the cart, her dark green eyes pooling almost black in the fading sun. Her cheeks were slightly smudged with dirt but she smiles brightly, walking next to Jean from where she previously stood.

“Ah, yes, actually.” Jean shifts his basket of fruits and vegetables between his hands, suddenly nervous to explain why he was there. “I’m looking for Forget-me-nots. Do you have any?”

The woman cocks her head, looking between Jean and the cart slowly. “I don’t get a lot of buyers who want Forget-me-nots.” She picks up a bouquet of dark red flowers, holding them out to Jean. “Is there another flower I can get you?”

Jean shakes his head, heart pounding in his throat. This was his only option for Mikasa’s birthday, and with the sun already setting, he was out of time. Eren assured him earlier that day that Mikasa would love them, that no, she wouldn’t want anything else, and as irrational as it was, Jean didn’t want to disappoint her by arriving back at the castle without any.

Even if Mikasa had no idea he was bringing them.

“No, no I need those flowers. Are you sure you don’t have any?”

The woman carefully places the flowers back on the cart, turning away from Jean to rifle through all of the flowers. Her lithe fingers searched through the petals and stems while Jean hovered, anxious to help her look, to do something other than wait. She hums. “It’s still early for the Forget-me-nots.” She focuses on one area, moving a black bouquet out of the way with a victorious laugh. “I didn’t think we’d have them.” She pulls out a small bouquet, one white and three blue Forget-me-nots in her hands.

Jean laughs, putting his basket on the ground as a relieved smile spreads his lips. They matched Eren’s description almost perfectly. “I’ll take them.”

She nods, clasping the flowers in one hand as she wraps a small, thick ribbon around the stems. “Your girlfriend’s going to love them,” she tells him, holding the flowers out.

“She’s, uh, she’s not my girlfriend.” He takes the flowers, turning them over in his palm as the woman wipes her hands on her apron.

“She must be very special, then.” She says, turning back to the cart with a wink.

Jean glances to the flowers, the lone white surrounded by the light blues. Mikasa’s favorite flower. “She is,” he replies, digging into his pocket for some coin. “How much-?”

She laughs, adjusting the flowers on the cart with a shake of her head. “Oh, I don’t charge military personnel.”

“How…?” His civvies were about as nondescript as possible. Jean hooks his basket back on his arm, careful to avoid jostling the flowers.

“My husband’s in the Garrison,” she says. “Trust me, you’re not hard to pick out.” She rests her palms on the cart, looking over her shoulder at him with a genuine smile. “Now go impress her.”

Jean grins, ducking his head. “Thank you.”

Sasha was pacing in front of the horses when Jean met up with her, her basket already hooked up to her horse. She smacks him on the shoulder, glaring something fierce at him. “Idiot, what if something happened?” She crosses her arms, her foot tapping an uneven rhythm against the cobblestones. She was pissed, and rightfully so, there were still plenty of people unhappy about the coup, and if someone had taken their frustration out on Jean, Sasha would never know, and the rest of the squad would be at a disadvantage.

“I’m sorry, Sash.” Her stare doesn’t let up. Jean feels guilt gnaw heavily inside him; he risked himself just to get flowers and if they didn’t get home soon they’d have to explain their actions to Levi and Hanji. “Really, I am.”

Sasha sighs, rolling her eyes “I know you are. Did you get everything? I want to go.” She ducks her head, glancing into his basket. She stands back up, a smirk threatening to split her features. “Are those for Mikasa?”

Jean runs a hand through his hair, shuffling his feet where he stood. “Is it that obvious?”

“Has been for years.” With a hearty laugh, Sasha waves him over to the horses. “I saw a small vase in the kitchen,” she explains as Jean fixes up his own horse. “Oh! You can leave them in our room to surprise her!”

“Sounds perfect, Sasha.” They urge their horses into a gallop, both wanting to get back to the castle before Hanji really started to wonder what they were doing. There was only half a dozen hours left of Mikasa’s birthday, and Jean really wants to get it right.

* * *

Once he’d placed the flowers on Mikasa’s nightstand, Sasha suggested that Jean wait in the hall for her, since it was already close to lights out by the time they returned to the castle and unloaded the food. Jean had agreed, standing against the opposite wall to wait for Mikasa, falling to a sitting position when she didn’t show for a couple hours.

Jean knew she was probably with Eren and Armin, exchanging small gifts away from the rest of the Corps, but with lights out so close and the very real possibility of getting reprimanded for sneaking outside the girl’s bunks, Jean’s nerves were on edge.

He ducks his head, pushing his fingers through his hair as he stared at the ground. What if she didn’t like them? Or what if, even if Eren said they were small enough, she got angry that he’d asked about her birthday? Or gotten her anything to begin with?

“Jean?”

He lurches to his feet, glancing to where Mikasa stood just down the hall, her head tilted curiously, her arms filled with a few things. Jean swallows, his heart beating harshly against his chest. He stares at her gifts instead of her face, suddenly too apprehensive to properly look at her. Mikasa shifts the gifts carefully, standing before him with an amused tilt to her lips.

“Thread?” Jean blurts, filling the silence with the first thing that came to mind. She’s holding a large spool of red thread held together with two needles, balanced on top of a few books. He can already guess who gave her what.

“Yes,” Mikasa says, glancing down to her gifts. “Eren gave it to me. He promised to patch the holes in my scarf tomorrow morning.”

“And those are from Armin?”

She smiles, and Jean knows she knows. “They’re books on the history of my culture and people, of my lineage. He wouldn’t tell me where he found them, though.” Mikasa laughs, smoothing her fingers over the faded title of the top book. His gift doesn’t even compare. “More importantly, Jean, why are you over here? If Levi catches you, you’ll be on latrine duty for a week.”

“I know. I had to give you something, though.”

“Jean-”

He tilts his chin towards her door and she sighs, resigned, as she whirls on her heel. She disappears into her room, and Jean resists the urge to move, to stand in her doorway to see her, to explain himself.

When Mikasa re-enters the hall, she has the flowers in hand, her gaze trained solely on the soft colors as her hair curtains her expression from him. “Jean,” she whispers, trailing a finger over one of the stems and across the petals. “How…?”

Jean pushes away from the wall to stand before her, tucking his hands into his pockets. “I asked Eren.”

“Ah.” She looked up at him, a small, genuine smile playing on her lips and the threat of tears dotting the corners of her eyes. Jean frowns, reaching for the flowers, but she shakes her head, laughing breathlessly. “I haven’t seen these since Wall Maria fell.” Mikasa says, bringing the bouquet to her nose and inhaling deeply. “Thank you, Jean, they’re beautiful… They’re perfect.”

Jean grins, resting his palm on her wrist, nearly on the flowers but not quite close enough to be holding her hand. “I’m glad you like them.”

She offers him one of the blue flowers, taking a step closer to him to place it in his free palm, but Jean has a different idea. He takes the flower, leaning down to work his fingers into Mikasa’s noticeably shorter hair, pushing the front strands back to tuck the carnation above her ear. He lets her hair fall again, the vibrant blue a stark contrast against her features.

“Beautiful,” he murmurs, trailing the tips of his fingers across her cheek.

Mikasa leans into his touch and presses her lips to the inside of his wrist, making his pulse jump. “Thank you,” she repeats, standing onto her toes to kiss the corner of his mouth, her lips lingering against his skin as his hands hover near her shoulders. When she moves away, Mikasa takes his hand, smoothing her calloused palm against his. She nods back to her room. “Do you want to come in? I can tell you about the flower crowns I used to make with these flowers.”

“I’d really like that.”

They remove their boots and toss them into a pile at the foot of Mikasa’s bunk. She puts the flowers back into their vase and letting her fingers drag across the petals once more. She sits at the head of her bed, gesturing for Jean to sit. He stays at the end, stretching his legs to lay parallel to hers.

Mikasa reaches to touch the flower adorning her hair. “Oh, before I forget. Levi gave me permission for an extra coffee ration in the morning. We can share it, if you want. I know how desperately you need your morning coffee.”

Jean smiles, taking her hand to thread their fingers together. “Thank you. Now tell me all about the flower crowns. Please tell me you got Jaeger to wear one.”

“Eren always wanted his first.”

In the morning, they share the extra coffee ration before breakfast and Eren fixes her scarf at the table, pricking his own fingers several times and cursing up a storm. Armin tries to placate him, asks Mikasa if she’s started any of her books, and as she answers, Mikasa takes Jean’s hand beneath the table and intertwines their fingers. He strokes his thumb over the back of her palm and she squeezes his hand, glancing to him from the corner of her eye as she speaks with her family; her own way to let him, slowly but surely, into her life.

 


End file.
